Who We Are
by mysterybagel
Summary: "It's hopeless, no one trusts us, no one believes in us." "You just don't get it, do you? Our past, our family names, the mark on our forearms... Those are just labels we can scrape off easily if we want to. None of it matters, none of those things define us. Nothing in this world can define who we are, Draco, except ourselves."
1. Who We Are (INTRO)

Thea Robinson is a young witch who's life was going downhill: she was broke, forced to quit her magic studies and about to be sent to a child home. But when Thea's mother made a sudden appearance in her life, all of that disappears with a proposal of a lifetime.

Embarking on this new path in high wizard society, Thea's life was supposed to take a turn for the better as she enters her fifth year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, under a new identity, as Theodora Nightingale.

However, nothing could have prepared her for the weight of the secrets her family had kept from her her whole life, or the unforgivable tasks she is entrusted with.

When meddling with dark magic and deadly spells, someone is bound to find out - aren't they?

* * *

 **That was a more official and detailed description of the fic :)**

 ** _Who We Are_ is a fan fiction set in the Harry Potter universe, roughly following the timeline of the magical boy himself.**

 **It will be about the story of my original character, Thea Robinson/Theodora Nightingale, and the people and adventures she will have to face in her life.**

 **WARNINGS: The story will contain strong language, violence, as well as abuse (whether it is physical or emotional). A pretty dark theme overall, but will still include many sweet and heartfelt moments. **

**Disclaimer: All characters from the Harry Potter universe belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to me, _mysterybagel_.**

 **Find my story on Wattpad too, under the same username, _mysterybagel_ :)**


	2. Chapter I - A Shadow From The Past

**Chapter I - A Shadow From The Past**

A long and heavy sigh escaped my lips when I realised what day it was.

Monday.

December 20th, 1995.

The day of my father's funeral.

I had originally believed that nothing apart from my father's presence would change, kept telling myself that my life wouldn't be any different than it was last week, but deep down I know that it won't.

Not ever.

Not after today.

I very slowly got myself ready, knowing that soon enough, I had to leave the flat, to go the funeral as his sole family.

Alone as I was, it gave me a lot of time to think, and I had already established what exactly would happen to me after this morning's tasks were done.

On one hand, I knew I wouldn't end up being left all alone in my apartment to fend for myself, as I'm only sixteen. My father was my only family and I lost him. I didn't know who my mother was, she had disappeared long before I even discovered I was a witch, and whatever extended family I had were gone too.

Social services would be waiting for me after the funeral reception, ready to whisk me away in some Muggle child home, where I was sure I'd never see magic for two long miserable years until my eighteenth birthday, when they'd legally set me free.

On the other hand, I also knew there was no way I could continue my studies at Withertrump Academy as there wouldn't be anyone to finance me. Sure, I could use whatever my father left behind for me, but it was in no way enough to suffice the expensive school fees.

The Withertrump Academy of New York was the only school of wizardry and witchcraft on the whole east side of the United States, hens the only one in my disposal. Because of that, it was also, unfortunately, a ridiculously expensive school. It was still however the school I've always miraculously managed to attend ever since I was eleven.

My father was one of the top journalist and photographer for a local documentary magazine, which made him obliged to remain in the city, as his pay was sufficient for our moderate lifestyle. That and he actually enjoyed his job.

Yet whatever he earned was solely spent on the school and for my wellbeing, and now that he was gone, cash stopped flowing in our account. I spent my first term at Withertrump, but now there wouldn't even be enough money to last me the rest of the year.

Long story short, my life was officially over. And for whatever was to come after this, I would go have to go through it completely alone.

Or so I thought.

* * *

It all happened in a pretty short time span, from the moment I woke up to just before lunchtime, and began with the discovery of an envelope that was pushed under my front door.

There were two reasons why this was odd.

One- I own a letterbox on the ground floor of the building, and all mail usually finds their way into it. Except this particular one apparently, who decided that it was much too important to be crammed in a metal box. Or at least someone thought it was, so much that I had to look at it right away instead of the next time I checked on the mail (which would probably be in a long time as that was something dad used to do).

Two- my full name was carefully written in black ink on the envelope, except they got my surname completely wrong.

 _'Theodora Nightingale'_ it said, which was strange to me, because all my life I was Thea Robinson to anyone who's ever known me. _Theodora_ being, of course, my full and official name, but no one ever bothered calling me that. _Nightingale_ , however, is a name completely unknown to me.

Because I was curious to see what it held, I tore it open nonetheless. In it was a small note, and in the same handwriting as my name was as it follows:

 _Theodora,_

 _My deepest and most sincere apologies for the loss of your wonderful father._

 _I do hope you've kept the letter that must have arrived shortly before this one._

 _I'm sure the circumstances you find yourself in has raised many questions, and I'm sure as of right now you must feel very lost._

 _All that I can assure you is that matters will be made clear in due course._

 _I will see you very soon._

There was no signature, no return address, nothing that could give me even the slightest idea who wrote this to me. I turned the note over and over, searching for clues, wondering what on Earth this person meant by their words, how they even knew me, what they meant by that other letter I never received.

Before I could fully process any thoughts, there was a honk in the street below, alerting me that my ride to the cemetery was here.

It was my down-the-street neighbour, Lawrence Barnes, honking from his old run down Deux-Chevaux, head sticking out the window as he glanced up the building to my window. When he caught sight of me, he beckoned me to come down, making wild signs with his gloved hand. I let out a small laugh, gathering what I needed for the day.

Without thinking much about the note, I quickly stuffed it in a pocket of my coat, wrapping my scarf around my neck, pushing my wand into an inner pocket where it was safe, and left my flat for my father's funeral.

I hastily crossed the street to the car, the cold and harsh winter wind slapping my hair into my face, my boots crunching the muddy snow beneath me.

It was mid-December, about a week before Christmas, and every street was decorated with lights and banners. It was a lovely sight, with the freshly fallen snow on the trees and windowsills. There was something so great about Christmas, how everyone seemed to be in such high spirits, how all the houses seem to radiate warmth and smell of chocolate and spices.

But to me, there was no way this month could be a happy occasion.

Lawrence stood outside of his car, holding his front seat up for me, leaving a small gap to slip into the back. I greeted his wife, Sharon, but she only answered me with a small smile.

Lawrence Barnes was my first magic teacher, and probably one of my oldest friends. He was in his mid-thirties, tall, and wore large framed spectacles. He was married to his _high school sweetheart_ , who was also a witch and currently heavily pregnant.

He was initially a friend of my father's; met in bar or some story of that sort ages ago. As a single Muggle father, Carter Robinson didn't have a clue what to do with the sudden discovery of having a magical child, a witch none the least, and he turned to his oldest friend for help. After revealing his secret, Barnes became to us Robinsons one, or rather, our only most trusted, dearest friends.

"You okay, Thea?" His eyes glanced at me from the front view mirror as he gripped the steering wheel. Sharon looked away, out the window, pressing a hand on her growing stomach. It had been a while since we left, and so far we've driven in silence. The most uncomfortable silence, may I add. I was glad one of us decided to speak up.

"Yeah," I said, "And you guys? How's the baby?"

Lawrence looked at his wife, who clearly had no interest in speaking at the moment, telling her with a nod toward me to speak up and answer in his place. Sharon licked her lips, twisting around a little bit to look at me.

"He's very well," It was like she was forcing herself to say it, "He'll be coming very soon."

"Oh yeah?" I tried my best to make things a bit more lively. "How soon?"

"A few weeks, maybe two?"

"That soon?" She hummed yes, "Wow."

Sharon nodded, letting words slip out of her mouth before she could stop them, "If only Carter didn't-"

Lawrence pressed his lips together as she cut herself short. I pretended not to notice, keeping the smile on my face. My attempts to keep things lively was a complete failure.

No one spoke after Sharon's slip of the tongue, the sentence weighing on all our minds.

For the rest of the ride, we didn't say a word.

* * *

The funeral was, as expected, just as exciting and fun as anyone would have hoped it would have been.

Note the sarcasm.

Today was a gloomy Friday afternoon. The sun was supposed to shine high in the sky, yet the weather forecast had been completely wrong, and I was lucky enough to grab an umbrella at the last minute before leaving my apartment.

The light was hidden by a mass of clouds, and below we stood, clutching onto umbrellas as ice cold rain poured onto our quivering bodies.

It was awful- what was supposed to be a last, long goodbye to my dad turned into a sped up version of a few final words about my father by a small and stout priest, who clearly, just like everyone else, just wanted to get back inside the church, away from the muddy snow that was swishing around our shoes. It was decided that the eulogy reading would be indoors, and that right now we'd just bury the coffin and, as Lawrence said, _"get over with it"._ I couldn't agree more with his choice of words.

We were lucky that the rain had calmed down a bit since we started, falling now in a slight drizzle, leaving the ground damp and muddy and gross. It gave me some time to look around, to see who was here.

Most of those who came were dad's colleagues, people I didn't know but have seen the few times I've been to his office. They stood at a considerable distance, sparse around the newly occupied grave, all looking elsewhere than at it.

Near me were the Barnes, who had to share an umbrella due to the fact they were unprepared for the rain and were lucky enough to find the old thing in the trunk of their car.

I suppressed a laugh as I watched the two, Lawrence nearly drenched by the rain as he leaned the umbrella more above his beloved wife than himself, in order to protect the baby bump from the freezing drops.

Behind them were some friendly neighbours, the sweet little landlady, old man Jenkins from the drugstore down the street, and further away, a shadow I did not know.

I could tell it was a woman, by the way her dark coat stopped past her knees and I could see her bare calves, followed by some black short pumps. I couldn't make out what she looked like as she held her umbrella close to her, hiding her face, but I could see the end of her straight, black hair, falling just pass her shoulders.

I knew for sure that she wasn't someone dad knew. If she was, she might have been a shadow from the past, his past. Some friendly encounter, maybe even a lover?

I was curious and in need of information, so I inched over to Lawrence. He looked at me, giving me a tight smile. His hat and scarf were completely soaked, and I wondered how on Earth he was enduring it for so long.

"Hey," I whispered. I tried to tilt my umbrella toward him to shield him a little bit from the rain, but I ended up pouring what was already on top of it onto his shoulder.

He didn't say anything as I let out a gasp, but then shrugged and said, "How you holdin' up, kiddo?"

"Fine, fine," I answered quickly, slightly embarrassed by what happened and wanting to pass to the point, "You know everyone here, right?"

"Oh, no," he shook his head, "Nah, not everyone."

"Okay, well, _almost_ everyone."

"Yeah," He smiled a bit, "You could say that."

I looked over my shoulder at the dark woman again. "Her," I said to Lawrence, "Don't look now, but, um, do you know the lady at the very back?"

I turned back round again, facing the priest as Lawrence took his turn to look behind him.

He gave me a perplexed look. "Bianca the landlady?"

"No, not her, I know her," I tried hard not to roll my eyes, "There's a woman in the far, far back, holding a black umbrella, with a dark coat and shoes and everything."

"We all have black umbrellas, Thea."

"Just look!"

He let out a sigh, twisting around again. When he turned back, he shrugged, focusing once again on what was happening in front of us.

I frowned at him, but when I glanced back toward the figure of the woman, she was gone.

Did she see us looking at her? Did she leave because of that?

I felt my cheeks burn slightly, embarrassed at the thought of it.

But still, the fact that she would leave left me wondering why she was even there in the first place. There was something very odd about the whole thing, that made me incredibly uncomfortable in my skin.

A sudden thought crossed my mind, my fingers curling around the note I had previously abandoned in my pocket. I bit my lip, remembering the last few words on the paper:

 _'I will see you very soon'._

* * *

 **There isn't much magic in this first chapter (more of a prologue than a chapter, to be honest) but oh well, I had to introduce this OC and story somehow, and I hope you enjoyed it all the same.**

 **As you can probably tell, this isn't going to be fully centred on the Golden Trio, but more on my OC and what she'll go through (sorry to disappoint but I promise that Harry, Hermione, Ron and many others will be wildly involved later on!).**

 **Thank you for reading!**


	3. Chapter II - The Acceptance Letter

When the Barnes dropped me off at my apartment I couldn't help but feel bothered.

I had been jittery ever since I saw the woman and read the mysterious note in my pocket at the funeral, and I couldn't seem to calm my nerves down.

I somehow found myself looking for the woman at the reception, who seemed to have gone missing, constantly glancing around, having to double-take nearly every dark haired woman that was there.

I didn't want to meet her, but just see her again, reassure myself that she was just some person at the funeral, there for my father's sake, without any other ulterior motive or intention that could involve me.

The words from the note were haunting me even now as I climbed up the few stories to my flat in a hurry, almost as if the woman in black clothes was following me, or that she were to appear in front of me all of a sudden.

It was stupid, I know, but I was all by myself now and I couldn't help but feel paranoid.

Locking myself in the flat, I quickly undressed myself from my formal attire to something more comfortable, choosing a huge mustard colour comfort sweater I had found in some thrift shop that I had washed many times, and charmed so that it would constantly smell of flowers.

As I pulled on the thickest wooly socks I could find, there was a loud thump, that made me drop one of my socks.

I looked in the direction of sound, frowning out of confusion at what I saw.

An owl stood at my window sill, a letter caught in his beak. It pecked twice at the glass, as if it were knocking to come in when it noticed that I saw it.

It was a shabby old brown owl that I had never seen before, and wondered why it was at my window. I wasn't expecting any more mail by owl delivery, not since at least three days, when the letters stopped coming.

I had already received plenty letters and flowers from friends at school, as well as teachers and shop owners from the wizard district, all of which were telling me how sorry they were for my loss. It was all very nice, but insanely overwhelming and a huge pain to write back the exact same 'thank you' note to every single person. I was glad it stopped.

The bird began to peck away at the glass, making the most irritating noise. It must be impatient, and cold, as the wind outside this morning was rather harsh and the snow had fallen a considerable amount last night that left me shivering in bed when I woke up this morning.

Quickly, I opened the latch for it and pushed the window up. The owl hopped in, dusting quite a lot of snowflakes off it's brown feathers, onto my sweater.

I let out a scowl as the owl suddenly squealed for attention, dropping the letter at it's feet. I quickly retrieved it, wondering what this one could hold.

The envelope was all yellow, and it was addressed to my name as well.

The frown only deepened on my face as _'Theodora Nightingale'_ was written in green cursive on the front of the envelope, just like the one I received earlier.

Again with the _Nightingale_ , who or what exactly is this _Nightingale_?

Just what was really going here?

The owl screeched again, almost as if it were impatiently telling me to open it already. That or it just wanted to be payed for the delivery.

I tore the envelope open, pulling out the parchment, my eyes widening at the words written in a sparkling emerald green.

 **HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY**

 **Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore**  
 ** _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_**

 **Dear Miss Nightingale,**  
 **We are pleased to inform you that your transfer has been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**  
 **The second Term begins on January 3rd. We await your owl by no later than December 31.**  
 **Yours sincerely,**

 **Minerva McGonagall,**  
 ** _Deputy Headmistress_**

"Transfer?" I muttered, then realised which school this was, " _Hogwarts?!_ "

"I was worried you wouldn't get it," A voice spoke from behind, startling me completely. I flung the letter in the air as I let out a scream.

However my shock didn't die down when I searched for whom the voice belonged to, because when I caught a glimpse of her face, it was as though I was looking in a mirror.

One of my hands flew to my wand, the other to my chest, clutching the fabric of my sweater where my heart was. It was beating so fast that I was sure it was going to leap out. And not in a good way.

My eyes went wide as the woman from the funeral picked up the envelope, turning it over in her hands as she offered a kind smile.

I could see her clearly now, without the umbrella or the coat. She wore a black blouse with frills and a pencil skirt that ended just past her knees, showing off her milky calves. Her lips were painted a deep shade of red that contrasted a lot with her pale skin.

"Goodness," she spoke with an accent, and was rather calm compared to my state, "You're too afraid to cast a spell."

"I wasn't even going to cast a spell," I tried to defend myself, but it came out as a weak splutter. To be honest, the shock was so sudden that absolutely nothing came to my mind, except the instinct of taking out my wand from my pocket and, well, pointing it menacingly.

Either way, we were in the Muggle world, we weren't allowed to use magic.

"How-" I began to recollect my thoughts, watching as she went around my apartment, looking at the place, her mouth twisted with distaste which made me feel pretty insulted, "How the Hell did you even get in here? The door was locked, you're breaking an entree, I will call the cops-"

"No, you won't do that," She reasoned, slightly shaking her head.

"And why not?" I huffed.

"You won't have your own mother arrested, would you?" She said, and my voice caught in my throat when I registered her words in my mind, "You have a shabby little flat here, it's not a very nice place to grow up in."

"Oh my God," I let my hand holding my wand drop to my side. One of her brows arched as I gave her a skeptical look, "Are you kidding me?"

"No," She held a very stoic expression, "The wallpaper is awful-"

"Oh my fūcking God," I couldn't help but let out. More colourful words began sprouting in my mind as realisation dawned upon me. I rubbed my hands on my face, staring at the woman who was clearly too preoccupied with what my apartment looked like than the current situation.

"Yes, well," She straightened up a little bit, "My name is Eudora Nightingale and you are my daughter, Theodora. Now that we've got introductions out of the way we can-"

"Stop," I struggled to speak, to formulate coherent words, "Stop talking."

She froze in place as I regained my composure and pointed my wand straight to her face. Without letting my wand face anywhere but her, I walked sideways to my discarded coat, retrieving the note in the pocket.

I waved it in the air, catching Eudora's attention, "You sent this to me."

"I did," She answered. She seemed relieved that I had it.

"Why?"

The woman- Eudora - let out a sigh, sitting down on my couch, bringing her hands into her long hair that was very much like mine, her fingers brushing through them before settling on her lap. With a nod she asked me to sit down too, and I chose an old armchair that was covered with a big crochet blanket, facing her and the coffee table.

Eudora took out her wand, muttering what I could guess was a spell, because soon after that, two porcelain cups of freshly brewed tea appeared before us.

How she used magic so casually baffled me. She either didn't care at all of the consequences, or she was in really good terms with the Ministry.

"Well?" I impatiently tapped my foot on the ground, albeit it barely made any noise with the socks I was wearing, watching as she took a long sip from her cup.

She put it down, finally. "I'm very aware of my absence in your life Theodora," she began by saying, "I haven't been there for you for all of your fifteen years, I didn't get to see you become the fine young witch you are today."

At this she smiled, but I was not amused.

"And now that I am here, I will take care of you."

* * *

I had to admit that I was an idiot to jump at the offer, but I'd also be an idiot to refuse it.

Eudora Nightingale, a woman who had given me a fright in the morning had offered to solve all my problems in the afternoon.

This woman, who turned out to be no one else but my very own mother was nothing like I had ever imagined her to be.

For one thing she was English. Now that I thought about it, dad once told me she was from far, far away. Not that England was exceptionally far.  
Her accent was just like the ones on television, from those fancy shows and movies. It was very obvious that she came from a high class family, by the way she drank her tea and dressed herself. Her form of speech too; very polite, yet very straightforward. I could tell she was someone that had very little patience.

Picturing dad and her together was something else, though.  
To put it simply, dad was like a rainbow, full of colours and sunshine, but she represented all two binary colours, black and white. I didn't know if she had any feelings or showed sign of emotion, apart from the occasional small smile here and there.

Of course, there was also the possibility of not being related to her at all, that she was a complete imposter posing as my mother and feeding me lies.

However there was no denying that our resemblance was uncanny; unlike my dad's tan features, I obtained her milky pale skin and long, wavy dark brown hair (hers might have been a bit darker, though, and sleeker too). We had the same small pointy nose, the same lips, eye shape, and were probably around the same height if she weren't wearing heels.

The only thing I kept from my father were his eyes- a dark brown, so dark that they could be pools of ink.

As she sat there in front of me, explaining everything she felt was necessary, it was like listening to an older photocopy of myself. I wouldn't lie and say it gave me quite the creeps.

Eudora didn't tell me much of what was going to happen, but she did admit these few points:

First of all; she was the one to request a transfer from Withertrump Academy to the Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, on her behalf, as my mother.

Second of all; I would be leaving Withertrump, New York and all my friends behind and attend the mighty prestigious boarding school as her daughter.

Third of all; I wasn't Thea Robinson anymore, but Theodora Nightingale. Legally, according to her, that was my name now.

And finally; she used a spell to break into my flat.

After that, Eudora had left my flat, telling me that she'd leave me some time to think about it. She warned me thought, saying not to take too long, sincethe Hogwarts Express leaves after the New Year and I needed to chose whether or not I wanted to be on it. And the New Year was soon, less than a week from now.

She gave me a piece of parchment with her address on it, telling me to write her which ever answer I chose. _Good or bad_ , is what she said. Although with all the efforts she's made to convince me, I was sure she was expecting a good one.

Confusion was my current dilemma.

On one hand, Eudora could assure a good life for me with this financial backup due to her rich background, and a good education with this insanely renown school.

On the other hand, it was crazy of me to trust this woman I had just met so blindly.

Yet somewhere deep down inside, I knew that she wasn't lying. That somehow, if I accepted all of this, I would safe and okay. Hell, I might even be happy.

Actually, no, scratch that. Happiness was absolutely assured with this. I wouldn't have to give up my studies, I wouldn't have to go to a child home, my life wouldn't be over.

The woman who gave me life had literally done it again.

I ran to my desk, grabbing a quill and quickly wrote down a few words of thanks, followed by my acceptance of her offer. Attaching it to the same old brown owl that had nuzzled up on my couch instead of leaving, I sent it off to the address Eudora left for me.

Once the owl flew away from my sight, I slumped down on my bed, spreading my arms out.

I read over acceptance letter once more, smiling to myself as I let out a sigh.

When the second semester would start, I would be taking it at Hogwarts.

* * *

 **A/N: ****In the letter it's written 'term', but Thea says 'semester' since she's American ahaha (and yes I copied down the letter *almost* word for word from the book)**

 **As you can tell I'm keeping everything at a slow pace because I think it's better that way.**  
 **However, in that sense, chapters will be longer and more thought out, maybe even a little boring at times, but I promise that it will get better if you bare with me a little bit :)**

 **Thank you all for reading!**


	4. Chapter III - Floo Powder For The Cheap

"You know who's in Hogwarts?" Lawrence grinned, wiggling his eyebrows as we made our way into the streets of Manhattan.

"I've heard the rumours, yes," I laughed at his expression.

At Withertrump, rumours of the adventures of a certain magical boy had been spread around every classroom, to every student and teacher for the past several years. I could only assume that they were greatly exaggerated, as some stories like facing the actual Dark Lord seemed so fake to me. Yet again they were rumours, and I was merely making assumptions. Who knows, maybe this Potter kid really was in deep shīt.

"Do you think you'll become friends with," he turned to look me in the eyes, "The boy who lived, the _Great Harry Potter_."

I rolled my eyes, "He's probably just a regular kid. A regular and normal and ridiculously unlucky kid."

"Maybe," Lawrence shrugged, "But it's still exciting to be going to the same school, isn't it?"

I had called the Barnes after sending off the message to Eudora, telling them absolutely everything that had happened to me so far. The note, the acceptance letter, my mother's reappearance in my life. It was all overwhelming and I needed to vent out to someone.

The Barnes listened to it all over the phone, gasping at some points, but were surprisingly fine with the whole matter. Of course they were concerned, acting like parental figures although they didn't even have their first child yet, but it was comforting to know that they did care about my wellbeing.

Lawrence was exceptionally ecstatic about my transfer to Hogwarts. It was his dream school, the one he had sent so many letters to when he was still a student but never got in. Something about being a wizard abroad, and that Hogwarts was for those in Europe. It made me wonder what kind of power Eudora truly held for me to obtain a place at the school.  
In the end he went to Withertrump and met Sharon, so for him he didn't mind, but the fact that I was going had him all giddy over the phone. Especially now that Hogwarts had a student that was famous for having survived an attack as a baby, and miraculously stayed alive after so many others got him all star struck.

When he offered to come with me to shop for the school supplies I would be needing, I gingerly accepted. After all, I wouldn't be seeing much of them after my transfer to Hogwarts.

As of right now, Lawrence and I were sitting in his car, driving at an incredibly slow speed that made me shake my leg with impatience. The road was pretty congested, which made me think that we probably should have just walked to the district as it really wasn't that far away from our street, but in this cold weather I guess it was better to stay indoors as much as possible.

We were headed toward the Hawthorne district, the only wizard district in all of New York. As any other magical area in the Muggle world it was hidden, and the only way to access it was by going through a certain number of small alleyways.

They say if you take four consecutive turns in one direction at the corner of a street, it'll make you end up at right your starting point. To find the entrance to the Hawthorne district, you simply had to make four consecutive left turns in any street, any alleyway you could find, whether you were walking or driving or flying on the west side of Manhattan.

Although it wasn't there at first, a bar will then appear at your fourth turn, back at your starting point. If you were a Muggle, you'd think you were completely lost, but if you were magical you'd know that was it.

The ' _Sleepy Dragon bar & diner'_ was the key to the magical world of New York.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be the ones to take care of you," Lawrence admitted suddenly, slipping out of his seat as we had arrived in front of the _Sleepy Dragon._

"What are you talking about?" I was surprised at his words.

"It's just that, Sharon and I, we've seen you grow up since you were a baby," I linked arms with him as I listened, walking together inside the bar. He had to stop talking as we greeted a few people we knew, Lawrence shook the bartender's hand, a classmate from his school days, before we continued through the vast hallway leading up to some heavy wooden double doors. "And we feel this responsibility for you now that your dad isn't here anymore. So we thought that maybe we ought to take you in-"

"That's rubbish," I said, scrunching my nose and shaking my head, "You shouldn't. Not with your situation."

We stumbled onto the Hawthorne district as we crossed the big doors, wizard and witches and magical creatures of all sorts walking around the various shops.

"Thea," Lawrence said with a sigh, "You're like a daughter to us-"

"I know you both care about me very much, and I love you all for that," I cut him off once more, but it was just for him to understand my feelings, "But Lawrence, you're going to have a baby. A real life alive _baby_. Most probably a little wizard baby. I know yours and Sharon's intensions are good, but you have to think about your little treasure first." I stopped walking to glance up at him and smile. "Besides, my situation has brightened up enormously."

The truth was, there was no way they could ever take me in their care. Lawrence was a petty crime lawyer, and didn't earn much at his firm. Sharon was a freelance artist and didn't do many jobs because of the near arrival of the baby.  
Even before that, the two of them were always struggling, always saving up, always refusing to go out to dinners. I guess that's why they chose to have a child so late in their lives, when they were finally financially stable. I wasn't going to strip their happiness away from them.

He too, and Sharon, I'm sure, were aware of this as well. Yet they still smile kindly, tell me soft words, to make me feel better. In a way it was reassuring, but it also made me feel worst.

He still smiled at my words. "Alright."

"Alright." I repeated, feeling at ease now that he stopped worrying. Then, he unlinked our arms, clapping his gloved hands together.

"Alright! Where's your list, what do we have to buy?"

* * *

I nearly had to force the birdcage out of Lawrence's hands, frightening the poor owl that was being shaken inside the cage, insisting that I didn't need one. He was head bent on buying me a gift, anything before I left for Hogwarts.

I'm sure we looked ridiculous. A grown ass man and a teenage girl fighting over a bird in its cage. Many onlookers stared at our bickering, and I felt heat rise in my cheeks, wanting this to end now. I couldn't handle this many staring eyes.

"I'm telling you I don't want one!"

"How will you write to us, then? You don't own a owl. Your damn cat can't send us letters!" He fought back. I felt as if I was going to tick and let go of the cage, making Lawrence plummet backwards into some empty cat baskets. Lawrence let out a shriek, the owl squealed, and I couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of me.

"Hogwarts have spare owls for students with other pets," I clarified for him, repeating what I had read from the letter, helping him up. As the shop owner's silhouette appeared at the door, I grabbed the few bags of goods and Lawrence's arm, dragging him away from the crime scene.

"You could have said that before," He muttered, stuffing his hands in his pocket. He was completely embarrassed, and rushed me, walking as far away as possible from the shop, telling me that he could never return after this incident.

How was a thirty-six year old this childish?

We passed a few more shops and Lawrence was just as pushy.

"What about a nice hat?"

"No."

"A pretty new coat?"

"No."

"A wand-case?"

"A _wand-case?_ " I repeated, "Seriously?"

"Hey," he said, pointing to the several wooden boxes in a shop window, "They're quite pretty."

"I don't need anything, Lawrence, thank you."

He let out a sigh, "You're really stubborn."

"So are you," I countered. His big hand stretched out from his coat pocket to ruffle up my hair. I swatted it away, complaining. He just laughed.

"I'll find something. You just wait and see."

"Okay, Lawrence."

* * *

I sat down on the bench in defeat, the multitude of shopping bags piled up on the table in front of me. I insisted on paying for everything myself, and because of that this shopping trip was costing me a fortune. I guess Hogwarts was just as prestigious as Withertrump.

We had gone back to the _Sleepy Dragon_ on our way out of the district, stopping for some refreshments as we were completely exhausted.  
Lawrence was ordering drinks and a bit of food, since all that walking made our tummies go hungry.

"We went to all seven tailor shops," I mumbled, "All seven shops in the whole of Hawthorne and none of them make robes or uniforms for Hogwarts."

"I suppose it's because it's all the way on another continent, so they have their own shops there," Lawrence shrugged.

"What am I supposed to do now? I can't just show up on my first day, robe-less and in baggy jeans," I said, pointing to my outfit. "It'll be embarrassing. More embarrassing than being a transfer student."

"What's so bad about being a transfer student?"

I looked him in the eyes, frowning as I pictured it in my mind. "The attention."

Lawrence chuckled, paying the waiter as he set our orders in front of us. I sat up straighter, grabbing my cup of hot fudge-nut cocoa.

"Perhaps you should have them ordered?" Lawrence suggested. "Ah, but then you wouldn't know your size." He continued, pressing his lips together.

"I could ask my mother," I said just as the thought crossed my mind, "Surely she'd know."

"Your mother," Lawrence repeated, letting the word linger on his tongue. "It feels strange to say that."

I nodded, finding it odd that I now had a person to associate with that word. It still didn't really feel right to say so, I don't think I'll even be able to call her that at all. Not directly, at least.

"Hey," I said, suddenly realising something, "Did you know her?" I asked Lawrence, suddenly curious. It was something we never talked about between us. All those years, and somehow we've never mentioned her once. I guess it was always something my dad and I used to talk about, "I meant like, did dad ever talk about her to you?"

Lawrence seemed to think about what he was going to say, "He never _really_ explained much about her. He never brought her up, that's for sure. I remember being the one to ask when he first came to me about you being a lil' witch."

"What did he say?"

"He spoke about her like she wasn't real, ya know, like she was a myth or a legend or something." He noticed how confused I was and explained further, "What I mean is, he said that she was someone so extremely rare and unattainable. If I remember correctly, and I quote: _'a jewel that shined so bright I could have been blinded by her beauty',_ end quote. Oh, and that he couldn't believe he had a daughter with such a wonderful and exquisite creature."

"You make her sound fetishised, or like some celestial being." Although, my dad always had a way to exaggerate most things.

"He must have looked at her that way," Lawrence said, taking a long sip from his coffee cup, "He must have loved her very much."

* * *

I was surprised to have received a reply from Eudora so soon.

Christmas was right around the corner and she wanted me to come over. She said she had a surprise reserved for me on that day, and that she wanted to spend some time with me before I go off to Hogwarts.

' _Family bonding time',_ she had written, and I nearly gagged at the words.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't taking advantage of her kindness for my own benefit. Because truth be told I didn't trust her at all.

She had just walked into my life after years of absence, no one could expect me to run into her welcoming arms that easily. That is why I decided to take things slow, to accept her offers to help me and be kind to her, all while keeping my distance to a considerable length.

Hogwarts was a boarding school after all, I didn't have to see her all year long. Staying with her over Christmas and the New Year was the least I could do.

Sharon was all grumpy over the phone, complaining that she was going to buy a big turkey and Lawrence was going to launch all sorts of crazy whizz-popping fireworks in their flat. I laughed at the thought of it, upset that I wouldn't be there to see it.

"I'm sorry I can't make it, but I gotta do this for her, you know."

"I get it, Larry will understand too," Sharon said. "We'll mail our gift to you, with some candy or something."

"Thanks, Sharon. That's really sweet."

I said a few goodbyes and hung up, immediately starting to pack my things.

In her letter Eudora put pressure on my arrival, insisting that I had to be there at least on the 23rd so that we had time to shop for things, which was only tomorrow. I guess the owl service takes a considerable amount of time for international mail. I wonder how they even manage to do it.

There was no way I would take a plane to Eudora's homeland. First of all it was far too expensive, and I didn't want to waste all my savings I had left (all that shopping really cut me short). Second of all, upon arrival I had to use other Muggle methods of transportation, and I knew that I couldn't handle my luggage on a bus, and that taking a taxi would cost me a fortune as well.

Besides, judging by her address, I was sure that her home was some big manor in the countryside, miles away from Muggle civilisation. The taxi bill for that trip could kill me.

When I was done, I undressed quickly, slipping into the warmth of my bed. In the morning, I would leave New York for England.

I resorted to the only cheapest method there was; floo transportation.

It was by far my least prefered method of transportation, but it was the fastest way to cross continents and to get somewhere on time.

What can I say? Floo powder for the cheap.

It was with a heavy sigh that I picked up my duffle-bag that was packed to the brim, placing the strap across my body as I squatted down, slowly backing into the dark hole in the wall. I didn't know exactly how long I would be gone, I probably would come back to back the rest of my belongings before I left for my new school.

I was more than uncomfortable in the position I was in. I sincerely wished my dad and I had one of those huge and fancy fireplaces, with a big marble mantel that held many candles and pictures...but that was not the case. Instead, we had a small dusty brick chimney that must have had some sort of magnetic force attracting soot so that it covered every inch of it. That, or we just didn't bother cleaning it out in years.

I huffed, shuffling my feet to be in some sort of position where I would be slightly more comfortable, but it was nearly impossible.  
If I moved my arms they would be scraping the chimney walls around me, and even just trying to straighten my back would make my head collide with the dirty chimney trap. With every breath I took, a small piece of soot would go flying around my face, and I felt a sneeze coming my way.

It was dark, cramped, and my legs ached while I crouched in the small space, looking around my pockets for the letter with Eudora's address.

After casting a few final glances at my home, I threw the green floo powder at my feet (as there wasn't much space left in that chimney) reading off the paper and pronouncing with what I hoped was a loud and clear voice: _"Nightingale Estate!_ "

* * *

 **A/N: We're finally getting somewhere with this story :)**


	5. Chapter IV - Shiny White Marble

I fell forward in a roll, letting out a squeal as I landed on my stomach with a loud thump, soot and dust flying in every direction around me.

I groaned, rolling on my back, accepting my fate. A few clicks shook me from my temporarily paralysed state and I stiffened, suddenly aware of where exactly I was.

Realising that the sound emitted from the clacking of heels on the marble floor I was laying on, I twisted my head to get a glimpse of who was coming.

Eudora's face showed more disgust than worry, wrinkling her nose as she watched me scramble up to me feet.

"You look absolutely terrible," She commented, actually having to guts and audacity to tell me that, taking in my appearance.

It was true; I looked like a mess. My pretty red coat was all but red and soot coated my face and hair.

I took my time to see the room I landed in, shocked by the grandiosity of it all. It was about the size of my whole apartment back in New York, with tall glass windows, marble floors, and to my utmost pleasure, a matching grand marble fireplace. I let out a sound of distaste when my eyes landed on the mess of soot I had left behind in front of it.

"I'll clean up the mess," I told my mother, who had nearly forgotten and left me into some hallway up ahead, "I'll come back and wipe it clean, it won't take long, I promise."

"Oh, no," She waved her hand, beckoning me to catch up to her, "The help will take care of that. I'll show you to your bath right this instant."

I assumed she meant house elves when she said 'help'. As wealthy as she seemed, I wasn't surprised she had a few of them employed.

"Don't dwell over such a small matter. I'll call up Mirga later on. After all that's what they're for." I frowned at her remark but didn't say anything else.

Clutching onto the strap of my very heavy and very full bag, I followed Eudora down a bright corridor, decorated with a few landscape paintings, representing what I guessed was the English countryside.

We went up a grand spiral staircase that was made of - you guessed it - shiny white marble. Eudora explained everything as we walked past some doors. The boudoir was downstairs, the library was just past the grand hall, billiard room up here on your left, medicinal room on your right, and so on.

"And over there?" I pointed behind me, to the side of the estate we didn't explore, "What's there?"

Her mouth was open to say something, but then pressed it closed once more. "The right wing of the estate has nothing of importance to you," she finally said, "In fact, you shouldn't wander there unattended."

I wondered if I should pretend to not notice how unusual of an answer that was. What was she hiding?

"So the right wing is out of bounds?"

"Yes," she confirmed, "Completely restricted."

I nodded glancing back at the dark hallway, curious as to why I wasn't allowed back there. Eudora had sped up in front of me, like she was running away and I had to double my pace to keep up as we turned a corner to finally arrive in front of a cherry wood door.

"This," Eudora said, pressing on the silver handle, "Is your room."

She pushed it open, a little too hard that the door slammed against the wall behind, making both of us jump, but I understood her sudden burst of excitement.

All strange thoughts of our previous conversation melted away as I took a step in the room.

The bedroom, just like the rest of the manor, was grand. I walked in, amazed by it all, putting my bag down on the big four post bed, mentally cursing my sooty hands for not being able to touch the white silk sheets. To my surprise the walls were coated with a soft blue wallpaper, moving paintings of oceans hung from a few walls, and in the far right corner near the dresser, there was a big vanity table, complete with a silver lined mirror.

"I didn't know what your favourite colour was," Eudora mumbled, taking a cautious step into the room. "So I went with blue." Her eyes caught mine, "How is it?"

For the first time, I smiled at her. A big, stupid, toothy grin, nodding my head furiously. "It's as if it came out of a dream."

She nodded, skidding over to sit on the stool in front of the vanity.

"This room, as you know, is yours," She explained. Eudora pointed to a door on her left, "Your bathroom, it's en-suite, and wardrobe," She pointed to the white double doors beside the large windows, "There's everything you need in there."

"You got me clothes?"

"I wanted to make you happy," She said, "To make up for, well," She was uncomfortably now, "You know."

I blinked at her. She was strangely kinder than I ever thought she would be. Almost too nice, too giving. Like she was trying way too hard but I loved every second of it.

Oh, I felt awful.

"I'll leave you to it then. Settle in, have a bath."

I nodded at her words, standing up to go inspect the bathroom.

"A word of advice, however," Eudora suddenly spoke up, and I stopped walking. Her expression had changed, no longer soft, and her voice had dropped to a hush whisper. "I must warn you: we're not alone in this house, so I expect you to be on your best behaviour at all times."

I arched a brow at her statement. Is she babying me?

"I meant that we have guests," She clarified, "People from highly respected backgrounds. I'm not here to scold you, nor shall I tell you what to do, but I advise you not to wander around too much, and not to do anything that could disturb them."

There was something alarming in the tone of her voice that made me fearful of her. Not in the sense that I was afraid, but in the way that made the hair on the back of neck rise and my eyes squint.

"In the right wing?" I couldn't help but ask. She gave me pointed look, her polished nails gripping the door handle, confirming my suspicion. "Fine," I retorted, not liking her sudden change of attitude, though I knew I had to go along with it anyway. "Whatever you say."

She nodded, informing me that we would go shopping in two hours time, that a house elf would come retrieve me, before disappearing behind the closed door.

I sat back down, a troubled feeling coming over me.

Who these guests were and what their purpose was unknown to me, and it was clear that Eudora wanted to keep it that way.

* * *

As dumb as it sounds, I actually managed to fall asleep in the bathtub. It was just so different, so relaxing and soothing compared to my little shower back at home, that I somehow slipped into a slumber.

It was short lived however, as a there was a knocking at the door, waking me up instantly. I scrambled out of the now cold water, rushing into a bathrobe without really properly drying myself.

A little elf jumped when I abruptly opened the door, letting out a small gasp.

"Oh," I clearly frightened the poor thing, as it was shaking all over, "I'm so sorry."

"No, Young Mistress," The elf stuttered, "You must not apologise. Mirga was not careful," her eyes darted to my bathrobe and wet hair, and she clasped her hands together, bowing in front of me, "Mirga is deeply sorry to have intruded on Mistress."

"Ah," I didn't know what to do, and waved my hand for her to get up, completely embarrassed. "It's okay, I swear."

"Mirga was sent to warn Young Mistress Theodora of Mistress Eudora's departure," The elf went on, walking to my bed to point at the small stack of clothes. "Mistress Eudora has prepared Mistress Theodora's attire for the day."

I picked up the black garments. Of course.

"Thank you, Mirga." With those words, the elf dismissed herself and I was left alone to dress up like I was going to a funeral.

I don't know what I expected when I opened the wardrobe; absolutely everything in there was either black or white. I don't think Eudora's ever heard of colour.

* * *

I pulled down my sweater as I ran down the long corridors, absolutely lost. I had spent too much time staring at every article of clothing there was in the wardrobe, wondering what wasn't too dull enough for me to wear without realising that time was passing quickly.

I came up with the solution to dress in the clothes I had brought along with me, which consisted of my big high waisted baggy jeans with graphic t-shirt, and above that a Christmas sweater my dad had attempted to knit. It wasn't very pretty, the colours didn't match and the pattern was a mess, but it was made with love and sentiment, so I wore it every year at this time around. After all, the 24th was already tomorrow.

I had grabbed my bright yellow raincoat, in case the weather was colder or rainier than planned. It was obviously a very different style to what Eudora was used to.

I suddenly became aware of the fact that I had passed the same potted plant three times, and slowed down to inspect my surroundings.

This was ridiculous, the estate wasn't that huge. I was sure I was still on the left wing of the house, there was no way I had somehow missed my exit down the grand staircase and ended up lost on the other side.

Or did I?

Studying the hallway around me, I realised it was unusually darker. Every single door was closed, which meant that there was no light shining through except for a ray of sunshine at the end of the corridor, which was probably the way out of here.

Feeling a chill run down my spine, I made my way toward it, passing the numerous doors, wondering what secrets they held. Eudora did mention guests, but how many were there, and what exactly were they? Witches and wizards, I assume, or could they be something else?

As the thought ran through my mind, I noticed that one of the doors up ahead of where I stood was slightly ajar. Before my mind could catch up with my body, my feet were heading toward it, my eyes wanting to peep behind it.

As I approached it with what I hoped was complete silence, but then again I knew that couldn't be very possible with my heavy boots, I caught a scent that made my skin crawl.

The odour was pungent, incredibly awful, and something I couldn't identify. My lips twisted down in disgust as I took another step toward the door, my hand flying to my nose to cover it.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say it smelled just a like rotting c-

"Young Mistress!" A shrill voice cried from behind.

I jumped back, away from the door, my eyes landing on Mirga. She stood still, her green eyes wide with worry, and in her shaking hands she held a woven basket. I wrinkled my nose as the smell seemed to have doubled.

"You mustn't be here, Young Mistress," Mirga uttered, her voice so low I barely heard it, "You mustn't venture to the right wing!"

So indeed this was the restricted area of the estate. I wanted to ask the house elf why not, what was in that room and the cause of the horrible odour, but shuffling could be heard from inside and Mirga began pushing me away, uttering that I must keep quiet.

"You mustn't stay, you must go to your mother at once!" She warned, fear laced her every word.

I didn't protest, and shuffled back to the end of the corridor, where I found the staircase, with Eudora waiting at it's feet. I quickly climbed down, praying that she didn't notice my flushed cheeks, or from which side I had exited the corridor.

Mirga didn't seem like one to tattletale, and I hope that she wouldn't, as that was most definitely not the last time I would be visiting the right side of the estate.

I admit this chapter was pretty boring and a filler, but I did try to add some interesting details to make it better.

In a way this was just an introduction to Thea's new lifestyle, which is completely different than what she was used to before.

* * *

 **A/N: Also, what kind of dirty secrets is this estate hiding hmhm? High class wizard family with dark secrets? That sounds familiar...**

 **Thank you all for reading!**

 **UPDATE: I'm posting a bunch of chapters all at once because I completely forgot to update my fic on this site like I had been doing on** **Wattled haha my bad**


	6. Chapter V - The Hogwarts Student

Eudora wasn't exactly happy that I had bought everything I needed off my list for Hogwarts. She wanted the time spent shopping for the items to be something between the both of us, to bond and get to know each other.

"It's alright, I'm not upset," She muttered as we made our way down Diagon Alley, a shopping district very much like Hawthorn. However the shops and buildings here were much older, more rustic looking, and the shops poured out on the streets instead of being behind closed doors. It seemed livelier, with colourful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons and much more.

"I didn't get to buy my uniforms, though," I pointed out, "Or my robes."

"You haven't?" Her eyes shined with excitement. I shook my head no, and her gloved hand grabbed mine, pulling me with her into the crowd, "We must go to the finest tailor, then. Well actually, the only tailor shop in Diagon Alley. But they do have a section for the finer clothes. The material they use for robes there are simple divine. The softest and shiniest satin you could find. That's all I ever wore when I was a student."

We arrived in front of a shop with the name of _Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions_ , and by peering inside the big glass window, I could tell it wasn't very busy.

"Now, I actually have to go get some goods of my own," Eudora told me, letting my arm go, "I suppose you're big enough to get your own clothes, aren't you?"

"Well," I shrugged, "I _am_ sixteen."

Eudora smiled as she fished out a small coin purse, pushing a few galleons into my hand. "That should suffice, although we never know as prices these days just keep going up," Though I was sure that wouldn't be a problem for her, "I'll come back to fetch you when I'm done, so do stay here and wait for me."

It didn't take long for her to blend in with the busy crowd, leaving me alone in front of the shop.

I went up the few steps to the _Madam Malkin's,_ pushing the heavy door open, a bell signalling my entrance. Almost immediately a smartly dressed goblin appeared by my side, adjusting his small round golden-framed spectacles on his nose.

I felt a bit embarrassed as the shopkeeper took in my appearance, my fingers curling around the tip of the sleeves of my flashy coat.

"May I help you?" The goblin asked. It was clear that he was hesitant on offering me any kind of service.

"Um, yes," I cleared my throat, "I heard you made uniforms, for um, Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts," The goblin repeated, bobbing his head up and down as he stretched out a hand toward a deep red curtain, "Right this way."

I pushed away the velvet fabric, walking into what looked like a big fitting room. There were a couple more smaller fitting rooms, individually lined up on one side of the room, with thick green curtains serving as doors. On the other side were shelves filled of all sorts of rolls of expensive fabric, and rows of boxes overflowing of shiny buttons and golden cufflinks.

Eudora didn't exaggerate when she said this was the best of the best.

"If the young lady would please oblige," the shopkeeper gestured toward the centre of the room, specifically at a small wooden podium.

"Should I?" I hesitantly pointed at it, the shopkeeper gave me a nod, "Oh, okay." I awkwardly went to stand on one as the goblin followed me. He took my raincoat off, hooking it on a copper coat hanger in the corner of the room, and then disappeared through some other curtains.

Then came out a couple of neatly dressed house elves with matching bow ties, rushing toward me with stools.

"Good afternoon, miss," One of them greeted, holding his hand out. I thought for a second he was going for a handshake before saying: "Your cardigan, if you please."

I realised he meant my sweater, and I slipped it off, revealing my tacky David Bowie t-shirt, from when he was in his outer-space phase. The elf folded my precious sweater neatly, placing it on a plush chair. He pulled out a long measuring string out of his pocket, wrapping it around my waist as the other elf measure my legs.

"I suppose you'd be needing the whole set," The elf to my right spoke, "Shirt, skirt, jumper, socks-"

"-Tie, pullover, cardigan, robe." The one to my left finished.

"May I ask which house you belong to, miss?" An elf asked.

"Um," I wasn't sure what to say, "House?"

"You attend Hogwarts, do you not?"

"I've never been," I searched for words, "I'm new there."

The elves seemed to understand. One of them hobbled toward a large shelf with many drawers, pulling one open and grabbing something out of it. He held the patch up for me to see, and I recognised the Hogwarts crest on it from the letter.

"The crest will change into your designated house's colour and emblem, as well as your tie and the lining of your robes," The elf explained, holding the embroidered patch in his little hand, "We usually sell these to first years, having never been to Hogwarts before, but we can easily stitch them onto your uniform."

I nodded in agreement, feeling excited at the thought of it. Withertrump never had any uniform, their only condition was for everyone to dress properly and with respect. The idea of having to wear a uniform to this new wonderful school delighted me completely. For once I didn't have to worry what other people thought of my clothes.

After slipping on a black robe that was a bit too large for me, I was left by myself as the elves went behind the shop to look for some that could be my size. They explained that, without this being the start of a new school year, they didn't have much stock on the robes, and would probably have to alter the one I was currently wearing for it to be my size.

The curtain from which I first entered was abruptly pulled open, catching me by surprise and I stood straighter up on my podium, as a boy walked out. No, not a boy, a teenager, probably even my age.

He had sleek blond hair that was styled back, and didn't see me as he walked around the room, clearly a loyal customer, calling for one of the elves.

He too wore a flowy black robe with the Hogwarts crest on it, except his was lined with an emerald green fabric.

I averted my eyes so that it didn't seem like I was staring at him too long, _except I totally was_ , choosing to look out the window at the passer-byes in the street, hiding my obvious blushing cheeks with my hair.

The Hogwarts student stood on the podium beside me, making me stiffen with anxiety, as one of the elves came to his help. He lifted his arms up, standing still, and then turned his head as if to look around the shop, and noticed me.

"Hello," The boy said, his blue eyes seemed friendly. He looked me up and down, as would any stranger, and glanced at my robe, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"Which year?"

"Fifth." I said, and when he looked confused I added, "I'm transferring schools."

"Oh," He shook his head, as if to confirm something. "I thought so. I didn't recognise you."

"Ah."

Silence fell between us for what felt like an eternity. I still stood on the podium stupidly even though there was nothing else to be done to my robe, while the little elf was attending the boy. I was horrible at keeping a conversation going and was praying that he was going to say something else. Or maybe we'd ignore each other until one of us leaves.

"It's a tad too long."

"What?"

He looked at me, brows arched, "Hum?"

Oh God, he was speaking to the elf. My face was on fire.

"Oh," he seemed to notice my mistake, grinning a bit. Somehow my cheeks reddened even more, "I'm guessing you transferred from Withertrump Academy, didn't you?"

God bless you, extroverted talkative blond boy. Changing subjects like a pro.

"How did you know?"

"Accent," he pointed out, "Not quite from these parts." He was right; I did realise so far that I was the only one here with an American accent.

"And Withertrump?" How could he have guessed that.

"Oh, that was a random guess," He chuckled a bit, "I was right, though, wasn't I?"

The goblin shopkeeper had walked back into the room, holding in his hand a small stack of clothes.

"If miss would like to try on her uniform," he said, placing the stack on a stool inside one of the changing rooms.

I slipped off the robe, passing it to the goblin as I stepped inside the room. As I began to undress, I heard the boy's voice again.

"How come you're a transfer student? Those are incredibly rare. I've never actually seen one at Hogwarts, now that I think of it."

"I'm not sure how she did it," I admitted, buttoning up my shirt, "But somehow my mother made it happen." I didn't want to tell a complete stranger my life's story, so I tried to keep it short. "It's because I'm going to live with her instead of my dad."

"Oh," The boy dragged out the word. "I understand." I didn't, but I wasn't about to press on the subject. He probably thought moving in with my mother meant some sort of separation between my father and her, which was true, but not at all what he might think it was.

When I stepped out of the room, the boy was still there, but this time his robe was missing. He wore a sleek black suit with a matching shirt and tie, paired with some shiny black shoes.

He looked me over, making me incredibly self conscious, and held out his hand. "Malfoy, by the way, Draco Malfoy." I shook it, "Nice to meet you."

I was about to answer when the curtain was pushed open and Eudora strolled in, walking straight toward me. Draco let go of my hand, turning to face my mother, holding his head slightly higher.

"I didn't realise you were a Nightingale," Draco suddenly said, exchanging glances between my mother and I. Eudora went by my side, walking around me to look at my outfit.

"Just as I thought: it suits you very nicely," She confirmed, nodding at the elves who were waiting for my opinion.

She averted her attention to Draco to smile kindly at him, to which he said, in a good boy polite way, "Good afternoon."

"Hello, Draco," Eudora replied. She looked at me with a small smirk, "I see you've met Theodora."

"Yes," His eyes met mine briefly, "I have."

I don't know why I felt heat rise in my cheeks as she said that, and I turned away, walking back into the changing rooms. "I'm gonna go change." I managed to mutter.

I listened as they engaged in polite chit-chat, wondering how those two knew each other. Were all super rich wizards acquainted?

"About the invitation," I could hear Draco's voice.

"Oh yes!" My mother exclaimed, "I'm sorry, I completely forgot to RSVP. With all that's going on at the estate, I'm sure you know, and with Theodora settling in comfortably in my home-"

"It's not an issue," Draco cut her off politely, "We'd just like to have an answer, as to know how much we should prepare for it."

I pulled open the curtains, an elf taking the uniform from my hands. Eudora peered toward me before returning her attention on Draco.

"I assure you, we'll both be attending." Eudora quickly replied, patting Draco on his shoulder as she began to back away. "I've got to pay, I'll be right back."

Leaving us alone, I curiously turned to him, arching my brow.

"Both be attending what?" I finally butted in, finding my discarded Christmas sweater on the chair in the corner of the room.

"Oh, your mother hasn't told you?" He seemed surprised, "We're throwing a gala at the manor tomorrow."

"A gala?" I grinned, slipping it on. "That sounds nice."

"It's the same old party we throw every year for Christm-" Draco stopped short as his eyes focused on me.

"What," He pronounced his words slowly, "Is _that_?"

Draco was staring at me, or rather at my sweater, eyes squinted in disbelief. His lips were twisted down, grimacing at my sweater as he pointed an accusing finger.

"A sweater?" Was all I could answer.

"Oh wow," Draco muttered, his eyes almost entranced by the reindeer on my chest. I felt my cheeks burn as he was sort of indirectly looking at, well, _my chest_. Although I knew of course he was truly staring at the colourful orange reindeer on my very purple sweater.

Draco's brows furrowed, a cross between a smirk and a grin lighting his face as he spotted something, "What is that there, under his stomach, is that his-"

"Leg." I spat, and then composed myself. Oh, the number of times I've heard this one before, "It's his fourth leg."

"His leg?"

"The back ones," I crossed my arms, a casual attempt at trying to hide it, "One of his back legs."

Draco pressed his lips together, trying very hard not to erupt into laughter. Although I was sure that he would have if we weren't in the shop, but clearly he wanted to maintain a certain good boy profile.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Do you have a problem with my sweater, Draco?"

He couldn't help the snort that escaped his lips, "No, not at all" he was grinning stupidly, "You truly have the Christmas spirit." He then tilted his head a bit as his smile went smug, "Or perhaps you've even killed it."

* * *

 **A/N: Ah, your mean side is starting to show, Draco. Of course he meant nothing by it :) AND YES FINALLY DRACO HAS ARRIVED EVERYTHING IS GETTING GOOD**

 **Thank you for reading!**


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